


I Know What it is to Want

by FanaticeIllabantur



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Canon verse, Kierark, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-08 04:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanaticeIllabantur/pseuds/FanaticeIllabantur
Summary: Kieran is not used to the things of the human world, and Mark feels he has to be the one to help. The shower is just one part he wishes he didn't have to endure.





	I Know What it is to Want

**Author's Note:**

> If you would prefer to read it in Russian, LeonaDyer has been a wonderful human being and translated it - https://ficbook.net/readfic/6184878
> 
> I hope you enjoy x

> “I know what it is to want something that could destroy you.”  
>  ― Nenia Campbell, _Endgame_

Mark could never not worry about Kieran. Their relationship may have ended a little tumultuously, and Kieran may not remember what it was that he had done, but that did not stop Mark caring. His mind was conflicted, his thoughts on Cristina and Kieran, wanting them both and not allowing himself either because he could not yet work it out. But Kieran had been his first love, his only love for a long time, and if Kieran was in pain, then he needed him. He wanted Cristina too, and he _would_ go to Cristina, but things were far too complicated to know who to go to first.

Those were worries for a different time, the burning on his wrist bringing his mind to Cristina, though he knew he had to check on Kieran. Ever since he had entered the London Institute, Kieran had not been able to sleep. He had spent most of his time watching out of the window, Mark having walked into his room a couple of times to bring him fruit he knew Kieran would eat and watching silently as Kieran pressed his forehead against the glass.

Every time, he knew the look in his eyes; it was a wanting for the Hunt. He yearned for it as Mark had done for so long, as he still did. It may have been difficult, but the life they led now was nothing like the Hunt, and he craved it at night when he could feel the breeze from the open window and he could imagine he was out with them all, reaping the dead and soaring through the sky.

But they weren’t to do that anymore, and they never would. Mark would never return to that life and, if he had it his way, he would not let Kieran back there either. Kieran might have understood Faerie more than this world, but Faerie was not safe for him, and Mark had to keep him safe, forever and always.

He had knocked on Kieran’s door before entering, having what felt like an offering of strawberries and blueberries on a tray in his hand. Kieran did not care for the food they ate at the Institute, and Mark scoured the kitchens every time Bridget left to find something Kieran might like. There was rarely anything that might tempt Kieran, but Mark knew him, and fruit was the way to his fey boy’s heart. He was not trying to win Kieran’s heart, Kieran knowing that something was going on but not what and still loving him despite that, Mark still confused and trying not to show that, knowing that he was failing miserably in front of the fey boy he had loved for so long.

There was no answer on the other side, but Mark had gone in anyway, shutting the door quietly behind him. It was pitch black inside, and Mark sighed, not knowing where Kieran was. The moonlight poured through the window, leaving a block of the room unveiled but not nearly enough for Mark to place where Kieran might be.

He walked slowly to the bed and placed the tray of berries down, turning around and scouring the room for any sign of his Kieran, not discerning any of the shadows. He had not spent a night in this room with Kieran, though there were times when he could tell Kieran wanted him to. Until Mark understood what they were to each other, he would not fall to temptation. It would not be fair to either of them.

“Kieran,” Mark said to the room that seemed empty though he knew it wasn’t. “It is fruit, not poison.”

Kieran said nothing, and Mark sighed again.

“I do not want you to starve.” Mark continued scouting around the room, but Kieran had merged with the shadows, and Mark could not find him. “That would be idiotically counterproductive considering we saved you from Faerie to keep you alive.”

Still, Kieran said nothing and Mark’s heart was dropping. He could be so difficult at times that Mark came close to giving up. He never would. He would never give up on Kieran, but there were times when he came close, and he hated Kieran for making him like that.

“I’ll turn around and close my eyes,” Mark said, disheartened, and doing so.

There was a minute sound of movement, but Mark could not place it. After a few moments, Mark opened his eyes, jumping when he saw Kieran sat on the bed, crossed-legged and looking up at him. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and Mark could see him clearly now.

His hair was black, the ocean at its deepest depths, and Mark had trouble defining what mood he was in from that. The flicks of white running through were minute, and Mark wished he could decipher a meaning, but they had changed, and Mark worried he might not know Kieran like he had for so long. His form was also weaker, his wound growing better at a much slower rate than it should have, his cheeks hollow, circles under his eyes darker than Mark had seen before. The contempt in his eyes for the City was visible to Mark, and he hoped that none of it was for him.

As Kieran did not go near his tray, Mark pushed it forward as an offering again, but Kieran did not move.

“Eat,” Mark demanded, but there was no force in his voice.

Kieran stared at him for a moment longer before looking away towards the floor, his shoulders tense, body stiff. Mark closed his eyes and sighed deep, running a hand through his hair and letting it rest on the back of his neck, massaging it so that he could release tension in his own shoulders.

“Please, do not make me force you to eat,” Mark said, feeling the strong knots in his own back that had been there for months now.

Kieran turned his head back to face Mark, his eyes flicking up to him before down towards the bowls of fruit. His eyes shined for a moment, and Mark knew he wanted them. But he was stubborn.

“If I have to strap you down and force food into your mouth, you know I will,” Mark said, but he could hear the exhaustion in his own voice and he would not have believed him if their roles were reversed.

Kieran again said nothing, and Mark wanted to scream.

“Why are you angry with me?” Mark asked, though he could understand fully well if Kieran was. He was a terrible liar, and Kieran could read Mark with ease. Mark had been lying the second they had entered the Institute, and he knew Kieran knew something was going on, just not what. If Kieran figured it out, Mark would be able to understand if he was mad with him.

“I am not angry with you,” Kieran said, voice dark. Relief washed through Mark, but he attempted not to show it. “I am covered in dried blood and I do not know how that machine in that room there works.”

He meant the shower, and Mark pitied him for a moment. They had showered in waterfalls and lakes before, of course he would not know how anything here worked. He had been raised in Faerie and the Hunt, there was no way for him to adjust to this world without aid, and Mark wanted to hug him into his chest and comfort him. But he could not, and it broke his heart.

“Let me show you,” Mark said and he turned around to go to the bathroom, Kieran jumping up and taking Mark’s hand so that Mark led him through. It had shocked Mark for a moment, not expecting Kieran to be so casual with him, but he gripped Kieran’s gentle fingers all the same, happy to lead Kieran and comfort him, hoping Kieran would not think too much of it.

The showers in the London Institute were different to the ones they had at home, but they were not difficult to work out. Well, for Mark who knew about these things, it was not difficult. It would be very difficult for Kieran, all of the buttons and dials not things he had ever used before.

He explained it as best as he could to Kieran, hands still locked, but he could see in Kieran’s eyes that he did not understand. Growing accustom to things so very different to the natural way of Faerie would be deeply difficult for Kieran, and Mark wanted to help him, it just made his heart ache.

“Undress,” Mark said. “I’ll help you.”

Now, the fey did not take issue with nudity, Mark did not have a problem with seeing people naked. The only issue now was that Mark had not seen his Kieran naked in so very long and, when they had been naked together before, it was usually in very intimate circumstances, so it was stirring something inside him that he did not wish to rise. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, wanting to help Kieran clean, not think of anything else.

The bandages that had been wrapped around him were soaked with blood that had dried to a nasty almost brown colour, and Mark felt his eyes prick. They had so often seen each other covered in blood with open wounds, but not on this land. This was his land, and he had to protect Kieran, and when Kieran was injured, Mark felt as though he had failed him.

Kieran stripped completely bar the bandages, and he turned around after discarding his fey clothes to the side, delicately for he had nothing else to wear.

“Help me with my bindings, my love,” Kieran said.

Mark responded instantly to the term of endearment, and he knew he shouldn’t have, but he did. He couldn’t help it. Moving towards him, Mark started unwrapping the stained bandages, trying not to look into his bicoloured eyes that were watching him intently, the heat of Kieran’s body radiating where Mark’s hands brushed his skin.

Taking deep breaths, Mark attempted to ignore how tight his stomach grew with the proximity to Kieran, the boy he had loved for so long, his heart drawn to him because he was familiar. Familiar was comforting, but it was not always right. Mark had to remind himself of that because he did not know what _was_ right anymore.

The bandages, once off Kieran’s body, were discarded into a bin, and Kieran stepped into the shower, Mark keeping the door open so he could direct him as to what he needed to do. His body, thick with scars of new and old, was distracting, and Mark would ignore that. He had learned his body to perfection, he had known every inch, every mark, every scar, and now it had changed. He could recognise the old, but the new ones were jarring, and Mark wished to learn his body again. But that was not something he should wish for, and he ignored it to the best of his ability, knowing he had failed the instant he tried.

“Turn the dial,” Mark began, forcing his eyes away from Kieran’s back. “It has to be in the red bit so it isn’t cold.”

“Why not cold?” Kieran asked, over his shoulder, eyeing up the dial as if it might jump out and hit him.

“Warm showers are better,” Mark said. “But if you want a cold shower, I won’t stop you.”

“I am accustomed to the cold,” Kieran said, and Mark was taken back to their washing in waterfalls, the cool water pouring down their naked bodies as they touched each other, running their hands over the other’s body.

“I know,” Mark said, throat growing thick. “I just think you might prefer something a little warmer.”

“Fine.” Kieran turned the dial all the way to the other end and Mark winced.

“Not that far,” Mark said.

“Why not?”

“That will burn you.”

Kieran scoffed. “I do not understand these machines.”

Mark hid a smile as he stepped into the shower, Mark’s clothed body brushing against Kieran’s nude one, sending a want through Mark that he forced down, struggling to control. Turning the dial so that it was warm, not boiling, he then stepped out again and held onto the door for support, knees beginning to shake.

“Now what?” Kieran asked, and Mark could tell that, beneath the anger at this new world, there was fear. It may have been something as basic as a shower, but it was something Kieran did not know, and it was painful to see him struggling.

“Press the button at the top, the one glowing red,” Mark said and he watched Kieran timidly stretched his hand up and press it.

It turned green and Kieran jumped out of his skin as the water leapt out at him, running down his body. Mark swallowed past the lump in his throat, trying to clear it with a cough that did not work, avoiding watching the water run down his body.

Kieran just stood there, frozen, and Mark, again, tried to hide his smile.

“Now, you wash, Kier,” Mark said, still holding the door.

“What are these bottles?” Kieran asked, looking around at the unopened bottles of shampoo and body wash on the shelving inside.

“That’s what you wash with.”

Kieran looked back at him, his brow fully furrowed in confusion.

Mark nodded as encouragement and Kieran slowly turned back, the water from the stream working its way down his body, washing off the stained blood where it could reach.

“We did not use this in Faerie,” Kieran said.

“No, but we are no longer in Faerie, so you must use them now.”

Kieran seemed wary, but he reached forward and picked up a bottle of shampoo, looking it over, confused by its shape and how it was opened. After looking at it for a solid two minutes, Kieran turned around and passed it to Mark, expectant and waiting. Smiling, Mark took the bottle and opened the cap, passing it back to Kieran, who still looked at it as if it might start dancing or spit dark magic at him.

“Pour some into your hand, and work it into your hair,” Mark said when Kieran just watched it as if it might do the work for him.

Slowly, timid, Kieran upturned the bottle and poured some, well a little too much really, into his hand. Returning it to its place and closing the cap, Kieran then worked it into his hair without much more guidance from Mark. He had to be told to step out of the stream, but that was about it. Mark watched his fingers work through his blue locks and yearned to reach out and help him, to touch the hair that he had coveted for so long. It was the shade of the ocean at shore that was wary of where it was treading, and Mark wanted to comfort him, but he was too scared of what it might lead to.

When he was done, he looked at Mark for more tips.

“You should probably wash your back before you wash out the shampoo,” Mark suggested. “But it doesn’t really matter, I guess.”

Mark was having trouble keeping his mind at rest, keeping his thoughts where they should stay. They kept wandering back to times where they had run their hands over the other’s body, in lakes, in oceans, in lagoons, and his hands were yearning to touch him again. He wanted to comfort him and love him and hold him once more. But he was confused and, until he sorted out his confusion, he had to resist him.

Nodding, Kieran stepped into the stream of steady water again and attempted to reach his hands to his back, able to reach the closing wound, but not the rest where the stained blood was set. He watched Kieran struggling, wanting to help, but not knowing if he should.

“Help me,” Kieran said, looking slowly up to Mark, vulnerability clear in his quiet tone.

There were two sides to Mark then; the side wanting to jump straight at the chance and run his hands over his beloved’s body, and the side that told him to be careful and consider everything for a second. Whilst the first part of him was eager to get under the water, the second was the cautious side, and he had to remind himself to be cautious.

Kieran was looking at him with such a pain in his eyes, the white in his hair moving slowly, and it made Mark want to hold him and hug him and love him all over again. If he was not going to do it because he was worried they might get carried away, he was going to do it to help him, because he deserved that aid.

“Let me just get undressed,” Mark said, sighing lightly.

He took his time, fully aware Kieran was watching his every move, and he placed his clothes beside Kieran’s, praying to Raziel that nothing would come of this. He hoped guilt would not consume his being once he had touched Kieran’s beautiful naked form again.

Stepping into the shower, which was really meant for only one person and, therefore, their bodies touching when Mark wished they wouldn’t, Mark waited for Kieran to turn around. But he didn’t.

“You have many more Marks than when we were last like this,” Kieran said, looking up and down Mark’s body, studying the skin that he had known so well only a little while ago. Mark had never been so fully aware of his own cock between his legs when Kieran looked down to his thighs, fresh Marks lying there. He was not embarrassed, but he was suddenly aware how comfortable he was when naked, particularly with Kieran, how often Kieran had touched him, and how they would not be allowed to do that now, not if Mark had his way.

Mark nodded, throat thick.

“Do they still hurt?”

Mark nodded again. “It is the faerie blood. It does not make it easy.”

“Do you hate it?”

“Never.”

“So, you have grown used to lying,” Kieran stated, confusing Mark.

“What?”

“You told me you used to hate it, in our early days. You should not say never if it is not true. It may have been out of spite, but you should not deny the truth in your hatred for your own blood.”

“Kier-.”

“Do not lie to make me feel better, Miach.”

“And do not call me that,” Mark said, tension rising through him. “I do not have the energy to argue.”

“You never had the energy, and yet we always did.”

“Kieran,” Mark pleaded.

Kieran sighed. “Help me.”

Mark nodded, and Kieran turned around, Mark inhaling at the sight of Kieran’s blood-stained body so close. The heat of not only the shower, but Kieran’s body was there, hot on Mark’s skin, and all he could do was think about the time they had made love in the cave of a waterfall, the lights of the water reflecting in the cave, in Kieran’s hair, on their bodies as they moved together.

All he could do was think about the time they had kissed on a beach, the ocean playing at their feet as they rolled on top of each other, sand in their hair, on their skin. The moon covered their naked bodies, making Kieran shine as Mark made love to him, soft as the light on their skin.

All he could do was think about the time they were lost to passion in a lagoon that no other eyes but the Hunters’ had seen. They had found a secluded area and were bathing, Kieran running his hands over Mark’s skin as Mark had soaked in the sun, and then they were kissing and they could not contain themselves, their hands too desperate, their mouths too hot. The cool water of the lagoon had spurred them on, and they would not say no to any passion they could enact.

All he could do was think about the time they had learnt each other’s bodies next to a lake. The nymphs had been trying to catch them, some of the Hunters playing with them, teasing them as the two boys in love focused on naught else but the other that they lay in the grass with. Mark had kissed every inch of his body that night, and he loved it more than anything else on the planet.

All he could do was try not to touch Kieran’s body in a way that would make him want Kieran in a way that he couldn’t have him. He very well could have him, and he could have him with ease, but it would not be fair and he could not do that to his own heart, let alone Kieran’s.

“I’m going to rub down your back now,” Mark said, throat thick. “Just be wary.”

Kieran nodded and Mark could smell the coconut from the shampoo in his hair, it so peculiar that Kieran would smell of anything but the ocean that it jarred Mark for a moment. He took a deep breath and slowly wiped across Kieran’s skin, Kieran wincing. Mark did not want to hurt Kieran, so he stopped.

“Sorry.” Mark hated how much his hands were shaking.

“It is fine,” Kieran said, though Mark could hear the restraint in his voice, the tension. “You are not the cause of my pain. Not ever.”

Mark wished the statement did not hurt as much as it did, and then continued to wipe down Kieran’s back, going gently, his hands as tender as they could be, not going near the arrow wound yet. Most of the torture scars had healed over, though they were still relatively fresh and they would still hurt. Mark’s entire being ached, and all he wanted was to take Kieran into his arms and hug him into his chest until he fell asleep as they would have done during the Hunt where things, although painful, made more sense to Mark.

The closer to the wound that Mark got, the stiffer Kieran’s body became, and Mark moved as gently as he could, working out the blood that stained Kieran’s pale skin. It was red and sore, and Mark wished it had not happened. And yet, if it had not happened, they would not be together, and so it was a terrible blessing, in some ways.

The blood was mostly gone, and Mark stopped touching Kieran’s skin, desperate to get away so that nothing would happen. Even if they both wanted something to, things were too complicated, and Mark’s confusion would hurt them both.

“Is it done?” Kieran asked.

“Yes,” Mark answered. “Wash out your hair and then wash your body with that one.”

Mark went to leave but he could not, Kieran was keeping him close by not even saying a thing. He would help him wash his body, that was what he decided. There was almost definitely another reason he might want to stay, but if he pretended it was only that he wanted to help Kieran clean, then he felt not so guilty. Of course, he did want to help Kieran, but there were many other reasons that kept him around as well.

It took Kieran a long while to wash out his hair, not nearly working his fingers into his beautiful blue locks as hard as he should, and Mark so longed to run his hands through Kieran’s hair, not only to help him wash it, but also because he missed his hair, its feel like silk. There was nothing else like it, and he knew how soft it would feel as he ran it through his fingers, which he was not allowed to do. Kieran would allow him, but Mark would not allow himself.

“This one?” Kieran asked, picking up a bottle for washing his body.

“Yes,” Mark said, his hands in fists, nails digging deep into his palms.

Kieran struggled with the cap for a moment before figuring it out and pouring a lot into his hands, it running out of his palms and onto the shower floor. Neither cared, but Kieran did watch it for a moment, Mark watching his bicoloured eyes and his heart aching.

Kieran then turned and stared at Mark, wondering what he should do, just holding the body wash in his hand, holding it out. Mark smiled at him, and Kieran looked as though Mark had given him hope, as though Mark had shown him the way. With all that Mark had in his being, he hoped that hope was not a false one and that they could be together somehow.

“You rub your body with it.”

Kieran furrowed his brow at him.

“Like this,” Mark said, taking some from Kieran’s hand and rubbing it over his own body, knowing what mayhem would ensue if he had rubbed his hands across Kieran’s stomach.

Nodding again, Kieran pushed the hand with the body wash in it straight to his chest and started washing himself down. Most of it was lost in the movement towards his skin, but at least he was trying. He could perfect the art of the non-fey shower another time, Mark just wanting this torture to end.

But then Kieran turned around, expectant of Mark to work on his back, and Mark’s throat dried out again. He was here to help Kieran wash, but he couldn’t help thoughts of their past creeping in. His hands were desperate to reach out and run along Kieran’s back, to relearn his body and the new scars and the new marks that covered his beautiful pale skin. He swallowed the lump in his throat, but found that it would not budge.

His hands were fisted beside his body, the proximity of the two, because of the confinements of the shower, meaning that his fingers brushed along Kieran’s skin as Kieran moved around, washing his body. The tops of his thighs were smooth against his knuckles, and Mark let his fingers uncurl, letting them brush freely against Kieran’s wonderful thighs.

It was unlikely Kieran could feel him, his touch light against his hairless body, but Mark could certainly feel him, and he so wanted to hold him again, to rub his hands up Kieran’s thighs and feel him again. The want coursing through his veins was so overwhelming, Mark worried he might not be able to control himself.

Presumably subconsciously, Kieran pressed back into Mark, the curve of his ass brushing against Mark’s skin, and his throat dried out further. It was not enough that Kieran would feel him if had done it subconsciously, but Mark was now hyperaware of every touch, and it was driving him wild. Kieran’s skin was so soft and so welcoming that Mark wanted nothing more than to hold him and touch him like they had done so often in Faerie before.

Having made love to this body in front of him so often, resisting him was near impossible. It took every ounce of his being to not run his hands more forcibly up Kieran’s body, to not turn him around and press him against the wall, to grind against him. It took the utmost of restraint to not suck on his neck, to not mark him as his own as they had done so many nights.

But no restraint was enough.

Mark leaned forward and kissed Kieran on the shoulder, unable to stop himself, unable to control his desire. The skin was wet, and he tasted like coconut and the ocean, and Mark remembered how often they had kissed each other’s bodies and how wonderful the nights had been where they could forget themselves to love and lust.

Looking around instantly, Kieran had a multitude of things showing in his eyes; confusion, love, lust, hope, bewilderment. Mark didn’t know which one to focus on, and he pulled back, closing his eyes, disappointed in himself.

“I am sorry, Kieran,” Mark said, slowly, throat tight. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know what it is to want,” Kieran said. “And I can see it in your eyes. Why deny something you know you want when what you want would have you?”

“It’s not as easy as that, you know that, Kieran,” Mark said.

“Do you believe our love during the Hunt to be that much of a lie that you hate me now?”

“I do not hate you,” Mark said. “And I do not think it was a lie, I just don’t know what it was, I don’t know truly what we are to each other here. But I do not hate you, how could you think that I hate you?”

“You are distant.” Kieran was studying Mark’s eyes, trying to work him out and Mark was trying to hide as much of the truth as he could, but he had never been good at lying. “I do not know you like I once did.”

“Things changed.”

“And you no longer love me?” There was a pain in Kieran’s voice that made Mark’s heart snap into pieces.

“Kier…” Mark said, feeling defeated.

“Is that true?”

“Of course not,” Mark said. “I lost myself for a moment.” He straightened up, attempting to make himself stronger. “Let me continue to help you, please.”

They watched each other for a moment, both trying to work out what had stayed the same in the other, and what had changed. Kieran’s eyes were focused, and Mark felt naked under his gaze, not because he truly was still naked, but because Kieran knew him down to his core, because Kieran could work out the truth that Mark was hiding with ease. They had never hidden anything from each other before, and Mark wished he had nothing to hide from him now. But wishes were just that, and Mark would not hide behind them.

Instead of saying anything, Kieran just turned around and left his back open for Mark to clean. He had to reach around him to grab the bottle, but that was fine. They could deal with that. _Mark_ could deal with that.

When cleaning Kieran’s body, he went slowly, caressing Kieran’s injured back and relearning the curves that had been engrained into his mind for so long. His hands followed the familiar scars with ease, knowing them better than many things in Mark’s life. The new ones were studied carefully, his fingers tracing them as he worked the soap into his body. His body was beautiful, and it always would be, even if it was different to him now.

The closer to the wound, again, the stiffer Kieran became, but Mark was gentle with his lover, and he worked out the blood stains that had seeped deep into Kieran’s skin. Even when the soap had gone from Mark’s hands, he worked at Kieran’s skin, having missed it, wanting to keep him close, and wanting to love him again. If only it could be that simple.

He left the shower, wanting to remove himself from a situation that would almost definitely lead to something he could not control. It did not stop him from watching Kieran as he remained in the shower stream, washing himself, running his delicate hands over his body.

Remembering how the shower turned on, Kieran pressed the glowing green button so that it turned red, the stream stopping instantly. Kieran turned around and looked for his next instruction, Mark handing him a towel to wrap around his body. As they did not have towels in Faerie, Kieran was again confused by it until informed what he should do, and he wrapped it around his shoulders to begin to dry him off.

Mark dressed and let Kieran pull on his breeches, informing him that he had some ointment from Nene to rub on his back and that he would bandage him again once he was done with that, Kieran just nodding and going to sit on the bed where the berries still sat. Composing himself for a moment, taking a deep breath and calming his nerves, Mark followed him out.

The towel had been discarded on the floor, Kieran having no care for material possessions bar the elf-bot around Mark’s neck, and it made Mark smile. He picked it up and placed it on the radiator that looked older than most of the things in the room before going over to the pack next to the bed. Inside were the bandages and ointments that his aunt had gifted him before they left, and Mark took them out, carefully placing them on the bedside table and sitting beside Kieran.

He was watching Mark intently and Mark felt as bare as he had when they were naked, standing beneath the water stream, and yet he was fully clothed and not even doing anything he should worry about. But it was Kieran. Kieran was watching him because he loved him, and it was hurting Mark’s heart that he could not love him back so easily.

After asking Kieran to turn around, Kieran sitting crossed-legged like a child, Mark sat behind him and poured the salve onto his fingers. He was trembling, and he felt ridiculous for it, but there was nothing he could do.

Before he even touched Kieran, he knew he was going to wince, but he had to do it to keep Kieran from dying or getting further injured somehow. Whilst Kieran’s body was stiff because he was in pain, he melted into Mark’s touch where Mark was holding him on the shoulder to keep him in place. Where he was delicately touching the arrow wound, he was not melting so much into Mark’s touch, but that was rather easily understood.

Even when he was done with rubbing in the salve, Mark continued to hold onto Kieran’s shoulders, his fingers lightly pressing into Kieran’s skin. He had missed him too dearly, he had missed being able to hold the fey boy that he had loved for so long, that he had held so dear to his heart.

Deciding to bandage him and not just hold his former lover, Mark picked it up and started winding it around his thin body. He had been so used to the two of them being thin, it was a part of the Hunt, they did not eat well and they were always skin and bones, but Mark had put on weight since then. He was still not at the healthiest level, but he was much healthier than Kieran now, and with Kieran still not eating properly because it was not fey food, he would not stop being the weight that he was. It had been so normal for them to be all bones poking out from everywhere, but now it was not. All Mark wanted to do was nurse him and feed him so that he would not look so sickly anymore.

Kieran stayed still as Mark worked around his body, his arrow wound being in an unfortunate position that meant it had to wrap around his shoulder and his chest to be secured into place. But Mark did not mind, his hands were brushing against Kieran’s skin, and the warmth from his body was inviting. Mark wanted nothing more than to dress his lover and curl up with him in bed. And all these wants were hurting his heart more than he cared to think about.

Securing the bandages in place, Mark sat back on the bed and waited, trying to make it look as though his knees were not shaking. Never having been this affected by anything before, Mark did not know how to act. He wanted to appear normal and unaffected, but it was not working all that well.

As Kieran turned to face him, he stayed silent. His eyes were not angry or fierce, but they were enquiring. He watched Mark, waiting for him to initiate something, but Mark did not know what to say. They had been in sync for so long, and now things were different and Mark did not know how to behave in front of the only person he had loved for so long.

“You should eat,” Mark said, so uncomfortable with acting unfaithfully without a truth in his words that he was incredibly unsure as to what he should say.

“Okay,” Kieran said, Mark not expecting him to comply so easily.

Shuffling towards the tray of food, Kieran started picking through the two bowls with his thin fingers until he found suitable ones, placing them on his tongue and eating them slowly. They had so often fed each other that Mark almost instinctively went over to eat some himself as he fed Kieran as well.

But this was not the Hunt. They could not behave that way until Mark figured out what was going on with his mind. If that could happen soon, Mark would thank Raziel or anyone else who might be helping.

“Stay with me tonight,” Kieran said, and he said it so quietly that the night almost stole it away.

Kieran had previously not wanted Mark to stay around if he did not know what they were to each other, but perhaps his performance during their shower had changed that. Maybe Mark had given him too much hope, and it was tearing his heart to pieces.

“I can’t,” Mark said, and it was tough to say that to the fey boy he had been so in love with when, for so long, all he had wanted was to lie with him back in the Hunt and stay under the stars forever.

“It does not have to be to make love,” Kieran said. “I would be content enough with just your presence.”

“I can stay until you fall asleep,” Mark offered.

“Then I will never sleep, so that you may remain with me forever.”

Mark smiled, unable to stop himself. Kieran was forever trying to keep Mark with him, having even done so in Faerie so that they could stay underneath a waterfall together or remain in a field of indescribable flowers so that they may hide from their responsibilities. It was a part of Kieran that he adored, and Mark had missed it for the weeks they had been apart.

“I would be very impressed if you managed that kind of feat,” Mark said, looking up to find Kieran already watching him. There was a certain sorrow in his eyes, but there was also a mischief in there, and Mark knew the glint well.

“I would do it for you.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Mark said.

Kieran leaned forward after placing another blueberry on his tongue and chewing, and he brushed Mark’s blonde locks behind his pointed ear. His fingers were familiar against his cheek, and Mark wanted to press his face into his palm, press his lips there and be content.

Kieran did cup Mark’s cheek with his hand, and although Mark probably should have moved it away, he didn’t. It was comforting to have him there, to have his familiarity working its way into Mark’s skin. There had been few moments where he was truly calm, and any alone time with Kieran had meant that he could relax. The rest of the world may have been wild and they may have been experiencing difficult times in the Blackthorn family, as they always seemed to, but alone, on Kieran’s bed, he could forget it, Kieran’s touch the way to send him off to peace.

“I have missed you,” Kieran said. “The Hunt was lonely without you.”

“I know.”

“I wished for you many times, but you never came.”

“You know I couldn’t. You know that was something I just couldn’t do, Kier.”

Kieran nodded solemnly and went to move his hand from Mark’s cheek. Although Mark knew he shouldn’t have, he took Kieran’s hand in his own and locked their fingers together. At this point, Kieran did not seem to expect anything from it, but he linked his fingers with Mark’s all the same. Their hands connected, and they fit together like puzzle pieces that had been parted for so long but still connected because they were always meant to.

There was pain in Mark’s heart. He had been so angry with Kieran for so long and, whilst he might understand what he had done to get Mark back with him, the result had been disastrous and it had broken Mark to an extent that he felt he might not be fixed again.

And yet this was his Kieran, and he had loved Kieran for so long. It was difficult to hate him. And now there was Cristina, who his heart favoured beyond his knowledge, and things were far too difficult for him to work out. Kieran was not helping the matter, but that was not necessarily his fault. It might have been a little because he had done wrong, but he had done it without all that much malice in his heart, only with love and wanting.

“Eat,” Mark said. “And then I will stay with you until you fall asleep.”

Knowing he would not get anything else, Kieran kept his hand locked with Mark’s and ate with his other, still searching through the berries until he found ones he thought were sufficient.

When he was done, which was not long after, Mark ate the ones he left and placed the tray on the bedside table as Kieran pulled pillows and blankets onto the floor. Bridget remade the beds every single day, and Mark wanted to tell her it was not worth it in his or Kieran’s rooms because they always slept on the floor, but she would likely tell him that was not healthy, and Mark did not care for that conversation.

Arranging them so that he would sleep comfortably, Kieran then lay down, pulling one of the blankets over himself and placing his head on the multitude of pillows around him. Mark watched him for a moment before coming to sit down next to him, resting his back on the bed. The room was still dark, but Mark had adjusted well enough now that he could see which shadows were Kieran and which ones were the sheets and pillows around him.

By the sound of his breathing, Mark knew Kieran was not asleep. He had grown to know him so well, even the slight differences in the way he breathed meant he knew when he was awake, when he was sleeping well, and when he was sleeping restlessly. Mark so wanted to curl up with him, hug him into his chest so that he slept peacefully, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“I do not like these buildings,” Kieran said, quietly, his body willing him to sleep and Kieran forcing himself to stay awake so that he might spend more time with the half-fey boy that he loved.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“There is no noise.”

“There is some noise.”

“The noise of cars and the strange hum of… I don’t know what it is. Lights, perhaps?”

“Probably,” Mark guessed.

“It is not the noise of Faerie.”

“No, it isn’t,” Mark agreed. “But I am afraid you must get used to it.”

“It would be easier if-.”

“I am not staying tonight, Kier,” Mark interrupted, knowing fully well that, if Kieran asked again, he might grow weak to temptation, and stay. And he would not be able to control himself if he held him in his arms as they were claimed by sleep.

“Can you fault me for trying once more, love?” Kieran asked.

“No.” Mark was honest with him because it was the best thing to be. If Mark were in Kieran’s place, he would ask again and again, always hoping he would give in. “I can hold your hand, but that is as far as I can go tonight.”

“Can you not play with my hair? I would prefer that mightily.”

“Okay.” Mark had agreed a little too quickly, but Kieran made him weak, and he wasn’t always able to resist him when he probably should.

Mark shuffled closer so that he too was sitting on the blankets, and he started stroking through Kieran’s silk locks, the colour moving with his hands. It was thick, and it moved with ease, Mark stroking and twirling strands, it so soft that he could not always feel it.

The feeling was so familiar, Mark could almost remember them lying together beneath the moving stars, the rest of the Hunt forgotten as they held each other, Mark soothing Kieran into a sleep that would keep him calm. His hair was soft, and it was one of the most beautiful things Mark had ever seen, and he held that statement true to his heart as he lay there now, soothing Kieran to sleep peacefully.

“Mark,” Kieran mumbled, so near to sleep that it seemed a great effort for him.

“Yes?” Mark twirled a large strand around his fingers, brushing a finger gently across Kieran’s smooth cheek, their intimacy so engrained into his being that he did not feel anything out of place in doing so.

“Would you return?”

“To the Hunt?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you asking?”

“I would want to return.”

“Why?”

“Because you loved me there.”

It shattered Mark’s already broken heart into further pieces, and Mark blinked away any tears that may have formed in his eyes. Whilst he was half-fey, and fey were upfront with their emotions, he did not want to burden Kieran with his feelings now. Kieran should sleep peacefully, and Mark wanted him to be calm, not weighted with Mark’s tears.

“I have not said that I do not love you here,” Mark said, swallowing away the taste of salt that was thick in his throat.

“But you loved me freely there,” Kieran clarified. “And if your love is to be mine, I want it freely.”

Mark did not know what he should say. He could confirm or he could deny his free love for Kieran, and one would tear him down, and the other would give him hope. Mark wanted to show him love, but he did not want to tell him that he loved him when he was not sure what was in his heart.

“Promise me one thing, love,” Kieran said, sleep so clear in his voice.

“Okay.”

“That if you do not love me, you will tell me.”

“I promise you that, Kier.”

“Mm,” Kieran hummed, and Mark hoped it was a content hum.

Mark remained with his fey boy until he slipped into sleep, peaceful because his lover was finally with him, sending him to sleep like he had weeks ago, together and in love like he hoped they might be again.

He stayed there for a long while after Kieran had fallen into his slumber, not wanting to leave him, still playing with his hair. It was still beautifully soft, and Mark loved to watch it as it moved even in his sleep, reflecting his dreams. Now, it was still, like the ocean at night, the moon reflected in its still waters.

Before he too fell asleep, Mark stood, Kieran stirring softly but not waking. Mark left the room, padding lightly on his bare feet and opening the door silently. He closed it just as silently, letting Kieran sleep in silence, a silence that he did not like, apparently.

Outside, Mark pressed his head to the wall, leaning against it for support for fear that he would collapse if he had nothing keeping him up. If he could figure out his mind, then maybe things would make sense. But minds were not easy to decipher, and Mark was lying to himself if he pretended that they were. And Mark was a terrible liar.

He knew in his heart that he loved Kieran, and he knew in his heart that he loved Cristina. Somehow, he would just have to figure out a way to love them both.

**Author's Note:**

> Hint, hint, Kierarktina.
> 
> Also, I finally finished my exams and so I am free to write for a whole year with no studying whatsoever. Hopefully, that means lots more fics, but I don't want to make any promises just in case I get major writer's block with all this newfound freedom.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed x


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